


Alone at Last

by Miss_Mouse



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: Body Worship, F/F, Lactation, Literature, Pregnancy, Romance, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17965682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mouse/pseuds/Miss_Mouse
Summary: Marcy helps a very-pregnant Bonnibel relax after a fancy party.





	Alone at Last

**Author's Note:**

> I started this a long time ago, but stalled under the pressure. I wrote it for a friend, and now it's done.
> 
> Have some more Adventure Time Fanfiction.

 

by Miss Mouse

 

    Bonnibel entered the room with a weighty grace, her dress billowing about her as a silken waterfall. She was gorgeous, her silhouette a picture of refinement, of beauty, appearing in the moonlit bedroom as a spirit born of the night air.

 

    The two of them had had little time to spend together at the ball, what with all the attention the princess had received from her guests. Marceline was left out of the adoration, but she was fine with that. Being on the outside of things was her modus operandi, and fancy parties weren’t really her scene.

 

    But the whole night—as princesses, ambassadors, well-to-do candy people, and other such respected guests came to fawn over Princess Bubblegum, to congratulate her on the pregnancy, to tell her how wonderful she looked—Marcy watched, and held her tongue.

 

    They might have had her for the evening, but they didn’t get the real her. They didn’t see her like Marceline did, didn’t see how she looked behind closed doors, sitting before her mirror and taking out her earrings. They didn’t see her in the early mornings, her eyes heavy with sleep, her cheeks flushed with the heat of their first kisses.

 

    They didn’t see her each day growing rounder, more full as their children grew within her. They didn’t get to touch her, to kiss her neck, to feel the movements beneath her tightening skin.

 

    They didn’t get to be a part of this, her real life, the one they shared.

 

    Marceline floated across the room, becoming visible along the way, though Bonnie still couldn’t see her as she faced the mirror and remove her crown. She crept up silently, waiting until she was close to speak.

 

    “Finally turning in, Bonnibel?” she said, smiling as the princess jumped in surprise. She put one hand on Bonnie’s shoulder, the other tracing a line up the nape of her neck.

 

    “Marceline!” Bonnie squeaked, completely caught off guard. “Where did you come from? I thought you’d run off with LSP or something.”

 

    “No,” Marceline continued, voice smooth, hand reaching to toy with Bonnie’s updo. “I was there on the sidelines. Watching.”

 

    Bonnibel’s hair was up, a braid forming a base atop which sat a coiled ball, turning into a flowing ponytail that fell to her shoulders. Marceline’s fingers played through this, feeling the softness, lifting it to her face to touch it to her cheek, to smell it.

 

    She began to unwrap the braid, slowly letting her hair down and laying it over her shoulder.

 

    “Did you really think I would leave you? Who would make sure you didn’t overwork yourself? You’ve got to take it easy, Bonnibel, if not for your own sake, then for the babies.”

 

    “I’m fine, Marcy,” she suppressed a laugh as Marceline gave a few tickling kisses to the back of her neck, her fingers undoing Bonnie’s choker.

 

    “You are,” Marceline said with a smile. She began to unbutton Bubblegum’s dress, slowly revealing the pink smoothness of her upper back, admiring the shape of her neck and shoulders.

 

    “Besides, I don’t think I can do much of anything, big as I’ve gotten.”

 

    “Mm, I’ll make sure of it.” Marceline slid her fingertips between the dress and Bonnie’s back on either side of the split, running them upwards, slipping the dress from her shoulders.

 

    Bonnibel took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she did. Her heart was beating quickly, each touch of Marceline’s fingers sending a little tingle through her muscles. She was tense and tired, an evening of standing and socializing having taken its toll on her pregnant body. The babies were getting heavy, and Bonnie was getting sore.

 

    Marceline’s hands danced up the muscles of her back, slipping over the shoulder to drag a nail along her collarbone and the naked expanse of her upper chest. Her breasts and gotten larger in the past months, though they remained high and perky—perhaps even more so now that there was an extra fullness to them.

 

    One hand moved up the neck, stroking the underside of her chin, the other went lower, pulling the top of the dress down below her breasts.

 

    Marceline stood, taking a moment to look at Bonnie, stepping slowly around her, admiring how the moonlight fell across her semi-nude form. Her head was tilted slightly upwards, her eyes shut, her shoulders back, her chest rising and falling as her quickened pulse accelerated her breathing.

 

    Marcy knelt before her, her eyes moving slowly over her curves. One hand touched Bonnie’s shoulder, tracing along the strap of her bra as it dug into her pink flesh, slipping beneath where a gap formed, drawn away from the chest by the size of the cup. The breast filled it completely, a bulge forming at the top, along the side by the pit of the arm where it overflowed the recently-purchased article.

 

    “We need to get you a new bra,” Marceline observed, her finger moving down to feel between the breast and the cup. As she watched, the nipple beneath hardened, pressing out through the soft fabric. She’d been excitable lately. “This one’s gotten…” she tugged downard, admiring how the breast spilled over her finger. “Full.”

 

    Full was the word for it. There was something extra to Bonnibel, more than her large breasts, her firm and swollen belly, the way her hips now turned and swayed when she walked. There was another, almost intangible quality about her, and Marceline settled on “full.”

 

    It was not just the size of her belly, but the way she carried it on her once-slim frame, the way her skin—stretched tight over the children growing beneath—felt as Marceline touched it. Bonnibel’s chest had never been small, but now it was truly remarkable, sitting atop her belly and overfilling her bras. Her breasts had gained a firmness, a lovely density as they swelled with sweet, pink milk. There was an almost-visible soreness to them, to her; it was in the way the way she moved, the way she sat, the very way she carried herself and the weight which now burdened her.

 

    A weight and soreness which Marceline had become fond of helping with.

 

    Marceline leaned forward, pressing her face into the rosey softness of Bonnie’s cleavage, feeling its luxurious warmth against her cheeks. It was a warmth that the vampire craved, one which seemed to have grown in the recent months; heat, the indicator of life. Her hands reached around even as she began to kiss, to feel the smoothness of her lover’s chest with her lips. It was becoming harder and harder to fully encircle Bonnie with her arms, but a little levitation and a change of angle allowed her to reach the last buttons on her lower back, just above the flare of her bottom.

 

    With a languorous slowness, she began to pull away, her hands gently unwrapping the dress from around the princess’ body, unveiling her inch by inch. It was a thing best savored: the big reveal, the moment when the true extent of her pregnancy was at last shown to the world.

 

    Every moment was a pleasure, the soft fabric sliding over the globe of her belly, gradually uncovering more and more of her form. Bonnibel suffered this in quiet exultation, swept up in the sensuality of the moment, while Marceline hungrily devoured it with her eyes. She sat, her dress about her waist, her tight and swollen belly almost shiny in the moonlight.

 

    Bubblegum shivered a little, though whether from the chill of nakedness or excitation of the experience, neither could tell.

 

    Her hands left their places at her side, moving to rest gently atop the swell of her stomach, fingers spreading out over its surface. Her eyes watched Marceline lovingly, but the vampire only looked straight ahead at the princess’ immense belly, enraptured by its appearance.

 

    “You’re huge, Bonnibel.” She reached up, placing her hands against its smooth sides. It was warm. Hot, even.

 

    “Oof,” Bonnie grunted, shifting a little. “You don’t have to tell _me_ that.”

 

    “I mean it, you’re enormous.” Marceline leaned forward, kissed her just below the navel. “And you’ve still got a while before the birth.”

 

    “Mm,” Bonnibel agreed. She began to toy with Marceline’s hair, coiling one finger through the long, black tresses affectionately. “Your babies sure are getting big… and strong.”

 

    “It’s their demon blood,” Marcy pressed her cheek against Bonnie’s stomach, feeling the smooth, warm skin against her own.

 

    There was a flutter of movement, a kick, as one of the babies stirred within their mother. Marceline touched this, slowly beginning to stroke the area with her fingertips, feeling the life just below the surface. She turned her face towards it, her lips pressing against the the firmness of Bonnie’s flesh, her tongue tickling the sensitive skin.

 

    “Ah,” a small gasp escaped Bonnibel’s lips at the sensation. She rubbed the upper curve of her belly, fingers tracing a narrow line of indention which ran along its apex, passing through her navel. Her belly button stood out like a cork, a sensitive nub forced out by the pressure beneath it.

 

    Marceline found this, her fingers toying with it affectionately as her kisses drew closer. She rubbed it, twisting it gently, tugging a little, listening hungrily as Bonnie moaned and cooed beneath her attentions, her fingers entangling themselves in Marceline’s hair. Her mouth moved to it, sucking, teasing it as she might a nipple. Her forked tongue flicked back and forth across the bump, wrapped about it playfully, revelling in the pleasure it caused the woman.

 

    “M-Marceline,” Bonnie stammered, her heart beating out of her chest. She felt dizzy, her face hot, the children within her growing more active with her agitation. A hard kick to her side forced an “oof,” but despite the discomfort she felt her excitement growing stronger, her body becoming caught up in this display of affection and desire.

 

    Without so much as a word, Marceline pulled back a little, slipping one arm beneath Bonnie’s legs and the other against the curve of her lower back. She whisked the princess into the air, holding her gently, but securely.

 

    “You’re almost too heavy to fly around now,” she said, carrying her to the bed. “But I don’t mind.” Looking down at the woman in her arms—looking up at her, flushed, pregnant, _hers_ —she felt her hunger deepen, her desire to simply dive upon her lover strengthened, but she withstood.

 

    As Marceline set her down on the edge of the bed, she pulled off the last of Bonnie’s dress that was clinging to her hips and her panties, leaving the woman sitting in her bra, her graceful legs exposed to the vampire’s longing gaze. Bonnibel glanced shyly to the side as her lover examined her, eyes scouring every inch of her flesh, taking in the beauty she exuded.

 

    “You’re breathtaking,” Marceline whispered, still in awe of her lover’s body.

 

    “I’m fat,” she crossed her arms over herself defensively. Her breathing still came in irregular huffs, her body not yet recovered from its excitation.

 

    “You’re a mother,” said Marceline, coming closer, watching how even as she tried to hide herself, Bonnie could not help but entice her, her heavy breasts pressing together to form a valley of pink and inviting cleavage.

 

    The princess blushed, her eyes going tentatively to the woman standing before her, her feelings of love smothering the fires of her embarrassment. There was a look of deep affection on Marceline’s face, an intense and protective love that warmed Bonnie’s heart, despite the chill of the evening.

 

    Marceline took Bonnibel’s head in her hands, kissing her deeply, savoring the taste of her lips, the heat of her breath. She gently ran her fingers down the woman’s neck, her back, finding the clasp of her bra and loosing it with one deft motion.

 

    Bonnie made a small sound as the bra fell away, a sense of relief coming over her as the discomfort abated. Her heavy breasts dropped to sit atop the dome of her belly, falling a bit to either side as it intruded between them.

 

    Marceline stood and looked at her, and Bonnie glanced aside, embarrassed by her probing gaze. The vampire shook her shoulders and pulled herself up through the top of her low-cut gown, standing naked for a moment in the moonlight. She went to the bedside table, and took out a small bottle of blue glass which she had stashed for a special occasion. The bright smell of peppermint filled the air as she removed the stopper, returning to kneel before her pregnant wife.

 

    She carefully poured the thin and fragrant oil on Bonnibel’s skin, causing her to flinch at the chilling, tingling sensation of mint. Marceline drizzled it back and forth over the top of her belly before setting the bottle aside. She took her hands and pulled her fingers through the oil, then down along the great curves of the princess’ belly.

 

    Marceline took it slow, moving her hands in strong, deliberate motions, spreading the oil across Bonnibel’s sensitive skin. Bonnie supported herself on her elbows, closing her eyes and being carried away by the sensation. It was hot and cold, an exciting tingle playing across her skin as Marceline massaged her, moving along the underside of her belly and up to the navel.

 

    She again turned her attention towards this, placing her hands to either side and running her thumbs up along its sides, pressing gently as she worked the fragrant oil into Bonnie’s skin. The princess shivered, small moans escaping her lips as her head slowly rolled back and forth, her body reeling in the sensations that spread across it. She’d been on edge these past weeks, and found herself becoming hot and bothered at the slightest thing.

 

    A little more oil on her hands and Marcy moved further down Bonnibel’s sides, tracing the curves of her hips. It was easy to be distracted by the more obvious changes that had taken place in her body—her chest and belly being more than enough to draw the eye—but there were smaller details that only Marceline looked closely enough to appreciate.

 

    There was the way her hips had broadened to support the weight of the pregnancy, her curves growing more pronounced as the weeks passed by. Her skin—always clear and pretty—seemed almost to glow now, lovely and smooth. Her posture had changed, her lower back curving to help support the weight of her womb, and it affected how she sat—her legs now a little spread to accommodate her belly—and how she walked—now swaying a little with her weight.

 

    As Marceline rubbed the oil down the shapely length of Bonnie’s legs, she felt the tension in her muscles, and she would stop here and there to work on these spots, to press and work away the tightness of the day’s stress. She was careful with the feet not to tickle, but enjoyed the little flinches her touch caused.

 

    Another application of oil to her hands, and Marceline floated up onto the bed behind the princess, now massaging the muscles of her shoulders and back. A shiver ran down Bonnie’s spine at the sensation, her shoulders rolling in a reflexive action. Marceline had strong hands, yet her fingers were gentle, their familiar tips a little calloused from years of playing her bass.

 

    Bonnibel knew her lover’s touch, and she relished the long and careful strokes, the way she pressed her thumbs into the tight muscles of her lower back, the feeling of her breath against her ear.

 

    It was a little ticklish, but the intimacy—the excitement—overwhelmed it as Marceline pressed herself against the princess’ back, her hands rubbing up her arms, stroking her tender palms, their fingers entwining together.

 

    Bonnie’s head tilted back and to the side, her weight falling against Marceline as she instinctively tried to turn her face towards her lover’s, her lips slightly parted.

 

    Marceline kissed her, her hands continuing their work, rubbing now down the front of Bonnie’s arms and up her chest, then down into her soft cleavage. Bonnie made a small moan as they continued to kiss, and Marceline’s hands slipped beneath her breasts, along their rounded sides, lifted them, squeezed them just enough to send a tingling jolt through her body. Her thumbs pressed the nipples gently, pulled them a little, and Marceline wondered at how large they had become in preparation to feed their babies, how hard they had become from stimulation.

 

    Already, the princess was having trouble continuing their kisses, so greatly had the need grown in her. Her face, flushed with passion, pulled away a little, her breath hot against Marceline’s lips, her eyes staring—half-closed—to say “ _please_.”

 

    Marceline stopped, sliding around in front of her again, not quite ready to fulfill her love’s desire. The massage—gentle though it had been on her breasts—had opened the floodgates, and milk was already coming out in a light spray, the pressure inside too much to contain any longer.

 

    Marceline acted fast, one hand going to Bonnie’s right breast, her mouth going to the left. She pinched gently at one nipple, just hard enough to stem the flow, while her mouth enveloped the other.

 

    “M-Marcy—ah—tha—,” Bonnie gasped, unable to finish her words as Marceline’s fingers started to toy with her nipple, rubbing, tugging, her palm lifting the engorged weight of the breast, feeling its firmness, its heft. With each gentle squeeze and pull, Bonnie felt the pressure building within her, her swollen ducts opening to let the milk down, only to have their efforts thwarted by Marceline’s firm but gentle pinch.

 

    Bonnibel’s mind was overwhelmed. Even as this need for release built—her desire to pull Marceline’s hand away and relieve the milk growing along with it—she was paralyzed by her lover’s actions, the mouth sucking at her large and sensitive nipple, the tongue flicking and coiling around it.

 

    Marceline knew what she was doing to Bonnie—knew just how much she was driving her crazy—and that knowledge only egged her on more. She sucked hard, pulling out mouthfuls of sweet milk, that delicious shade of pink that the vampire had so grown to enjoy. Bonnibel moaned and panted, her legs rubbing together in barely-suppressed excitement as the sensation grew to a numbing buzz in her spine.

 

    The vampire finished with one side and pulled away, leaving the wet nipple to glisten in the moonlight, its tip swollen and tender from her affections. As she latched on to the other—Bonnie’s hands now entangling in her hair, pulling her closer—she found it giving immediately, almost faster than she could drink it.

 

    She drank it all, sucking and pulling, her lips and tongue working together to draw out every last drop from Bonnibel’s aching breast. The princess’ voice rose in high and ringing moans, first stifled to save her modesty, but growing so power she could not deny them, and they echoed out the open window and into the night air.

 

    Bonnibel pulled her closer, hoping desperately to further this, to push herself over that edge which now seemed so incredibly close, but agonizingly far away. She tried to force the issue, but Marceline was stronger, quicker, and she slipped through Bonnie’s clumsy fingers like smoke, standing up.

 

    Marceline watched her, half-reclining, her chest rising and falling in gasps of excitement. Her face a haze of unfulfilled desire, her need reaching the point of total distraction. Marcy leaned on her, pressed her body against Bonnie’s, and their faces came together again.

 

    They kissed, and Bonnie tasted the sweetness of her milk on Marceline’s lips, felt her passion, her own needs mirrored in the woman she loved. They kissed and Bonnie held Marceline’s face in her hands, and she was the luckiest woman in the world.

 

    There were two small gasps for air as they parted, and they stared into each other’s eyes for as long as they could bear to forestall the conclusion.

 

    “Please,” Bonnie whispered, her voice breathy, barely audible.

 

    Marceline smile, her fangs glinting white in the dimness of the room.

 

    “Alright,”

 

    And she kissed her once more, then made her way lower, down the ticklish length of the princess’ neck, kissing her way over her chest. She pressed Bonnie’s swollen breasts together, kissed buried her face in these, then kissed lower and lower onto the tight firmness of her belly. Now came the tongue, flicking and licking out between her soft lips as they pressed and kissed, pausing once more to linger at the navel. She sucked and teased, stoking the fires a little more before going lower, down the great underside of Bonnie’s pregnant stomach, until—there, between her soft and pillowy thighs, her kisses found the princess’ lips, hot and slick with need.

 

    Bonnibel was sweet, tasting of candy and pinkness, warm and responsive and more delicious even than her kisses. Marceline loved this, savored it, going slowly as she worked her long, forked tongue between the folds, licking the sweet wetness with a suppressed eagerness. Her breath tickled the hooded clitoris, her upper lip gently pressing against it, rubbing ever so slightly.

 

    She continued with measured pace, wanting to simply devour the woman, but she drew it out knowing just the buttons to push, just the strings to pull to drive Bonnie out of her mind.

 

    The princess had changed in recent months, her lips growing plusher, more sensitive, slick folds sweeter and irresistable. The hormones were preparing her for birth, and her needs had grown even more than her body.

 

    Her hips twitched, trying desperately to press against something, anything to go further, to go over that edge. Bonnie’s voice filled the air with a rising tide of ecstatic moans, her hands first grasping at Marceline’s hand, then moving to rub her tight belly, skin softened with oil. The babies were moving, feeling her excitement, and she could feel them kicking and stretching within her even through the haze of sex. She took a breast in one hand, teasing at the nipple with trembling fingers, pulling out jolts of pleasure as it all built up inside her. A scream escaped her lips, and she bit down on her knuckle to suppress her cries.

 

    She was ready, and so Marceline shifted her attentions higher, moving her mouth up to Bonnie’s clitoris. Her tongue slipped beneath the hood, finding it hot and swollen, ready to play its part in the finale of this long and sensual dance. She sucked and pressed, her lips, her tongue, her breath—each in their own way exciting the princess and drawing her to new and unknown heights of pleasure.

 

    Bonnibel exploded in orgasm, no longer able to contain the extent of her needs and her pleasures as they overwhelmed her. She was awash in it, tossed like a leaf adrift on a stormy sea, lost and helpless as it tore through her. Her muscles tensed, her body shook, electrified with sensations of blinding ecstacy. Her toes curled, her legs kicking out spasmodically as her whole being contracted and writhed.

 

    Marceline didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—sucking and licking, lapping up the fruits of Bonnie’s pleasure with an unquenchable thirst. Her eyes were shut, and her world was the sound of her lover’s cries, the touch of her skin, and the heat of her lips.

 

    Time lost itself in the pleasure, and Bonnie knew nothing but her own body and Marceline’s relentless ministrations, the waves of heat and lightning that passed between them. This was the pinnacle of herself; her body—swollen and burdened with children—overcome with the extent of her gravidity, her delicacy, her aching need to be filled and surrounded with love.

 

    And she was.

 

    At last she fell still, hoarse and weakened by the throes of love, and even then Marceline did not stop, but slowed, letting her slowly back down into the world. The night was quiet but for the hard, gasping breaths that Bonnie stole between the aftershocks.

 

    Marceline raised up and saw her lying there on the bed in languorous reflection, her hair fanned out against the sheets, her arms wrapping and moving across her chest, her belly, acting out the last fires of orgasm. Her eyes were shut, her face flushed, and Marceline carefully scooped her up in her arms and floated to the head of the bed, setting her down more naturally to rest on her side, her head supported by a soft pillow.

 

    Then Marceline laid down behind her, up against her, and she pulled a thin blanket up over them both. Bonnie was shortly asleep asleep and breathing slow and restful breaths, her lips still raised in a tremulous smile.

 

    For a few, long moments, Marceline watched her—admiring her strength and her peacefulness—and then she kissed her softly on the cheek before holding her close and slowly drifting to sleep.

 

    —


End file.
